


The Time we Spend Together

by 400bugsinatrenchcoat



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternative Perspective, Book 4: Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, Canon Compliant, Canon Universe, F/F, Trans Hermione Granger
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:02:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27933544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/400bugsinatrenchcoat/pseuds/400bugsinatrenchcoat
Summary: Hermione and Ginny spend a lot of time together over the years. They grow close in Hermione's fourth year of Hogwarts, perhaps too close for comfort... As life is complicated with the Triwizard tournament, dark wizardry afoot, and f r i e n d  d r a m a (oh no), the witches have to figure out what to do with themselves as they fall in love.
Relationships: Hermione Granger & Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger/Ginny Weasley
Comments: 5
Kudos: 19





	The Time we Spend Together

**Author's Note:**

> TERFs dni
> 
> I plan to add more chapters as soon as I can! This work will take place kind of alongside canon for Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. Enjoy!

Finally, the day Hermione was waiting for had come. Sitting up in her bed, she stretched and crossed off the next day on her calendar. It was August 16th, and she would be visiting her friend Ron at his home for the first time.

Hermione got out of bed and collected the last items she would need for the trip to the Burrow and the coming school year at Hogwarts: the spell book she had stayed up reading, a clean pair of pajamas, and, taken from a carefully polished wooden box—a gift from her grandmother with beautiful leaves and birds carved into the lid—her wand. It was her most prized possession, more so than her beloved copy of _Hogwarts, A History,_ whose pages were worn down slightly from frequency of use. The ability that wand held—to turn rats into bars of soap, to summon light from nothing, to enchant her inkwell to stay full constantly—was a gift she honored greatly.

Dressed in denim shorts and a red and purple sweater, she gathered her suitcases and went downstairs. There, her parents were gathered at the dining table, watching the morning news. They turned to her as she walked downstairs, smiling gently.

“Good morning, dear! Your father made you some bacon and eggs. It’s in the kitchen.”

“Thanks, dad!”

Hermione retrieved her breakfast and joined her parents at the table. They were still dressed in their pajamas, savoring the day off they had from work.

“We’re really excited to be meeting the… the Weasels, was it?” said Mr. Granger between sips of tea.

“The _Weasleys,_ dad!”

“Ah, yes! My apologies! But, as I was saying, we haven’t really met any witches or wizards aside from yourself and, well, your mother and I were just talking about how we didn’t really meet many of your friends from before Hogwarts either!”

Hermione flushed and tried desperately to naturally hide her face behind her mug.

“And we’ve waited three years to formally meet Ronald and his family,” Mrs. Granger chimed in, “We are so excited, Hermione.”

“Me too.”

They spent the rest of the morning watching the Muggle news—the economy was looking up, the week’s weather was clear, and all seemed to be well in Hampstead. Eventually, her parents left to get ready and Hermione was on her own.

She had never been to a wizarding household before and seeing the way wizards lived would be fascinating. Hermione had felt such a disconnect from wizarding communities in her first few months at Hogwarts. She didn’t know anyone and everything she understood about wizarding life and culture came from textbooks. There isn’t a lot d Spore can teach you about how to fit into the wizarding world as a Muggle-born. Those first friendless months had been rough.

“We’re ready, darling!” came a call from upstairs. Her parents walked down, checking their appearances in the mirror. Mr. Granger straightened his tie and Mrs. Granger tidied her braids and adjusted her makeup. Hermione smiled at them and, together, they got into the family car, her cat Crookshanks only somewhat reluctantly.

The drive to the Weasley household was long and uneventful. Hermione gazed out of the backseat window as the scenery changed from grey pavement and red brick to the highway to rolling green farmland. Eventually, she became bored and lost herself in a book on the history of illegal enchantments (a recommendation from her Charms teacher, Professor Flitwick).

“This is the right address, is it?”

“We must be close. It says here that it’s right past Ottery St. Catchpole, so…”

Hearing her parents’ concern, Hermione looked up from her book.

“There it is!” She spotted a towering house just on the horizon. There was no driveway, so the family parked a few yards down, keen on preserving the beautiful garden that extended beyond the home in all directions.

“Interesting architecture, don’t you think?” said Mr. Granger, taking off his glasses to fully marvel at the tall, crooked home, “How do you think it stays up?”

Hermione couldn’t find the words to describe her wonder. No doubt by several advanced enchantments, a traditional country house had been augmented magically into the sky, creating a towering structure that looked like it should have toppled over long ago. Two figures stood in the doorway, one waving frantically.

“Ron!” Hermione ran up to the house and embraced her friend, cradling Crookshanks in her other arm.

Ron laughed and hugged back, patting Hermione’s bushy head.

“Hiya, Hermione! Wow, is that your car? It looks so different from our old one.”

“Well, they’re not all the same… Hello, Mr. Weasley!”

“Welcome, Hermione!”

At this point, the Granger parents had reached the house. Both smiled politely, and Mr. Granger extended a hand to Mr. Weasley.

“You must be Mr. Weasley! We must say, we are very pleased to meet you. We’ve heard a lot about your son from Hermione.”

Ron’s ears turned red.

“Hello, and welcome! Please, call me Arthur.”

“Wanna come inside?” said Ron out of the corner of his mouth, “We don’t need to sit here and listen to them. Plus, I want to show you around.”

“Sure!”

Ron took Hermione inside, leaving the adults to chat. Hermione saw a slight bewilderment in her parents’ faces but decided that, ultimately, she had more important things to discover than the threshold of her friend’s house.

“Well, this is the Burrow,” said Ron, gesturing about his kitchen, “Mum’s outside in the garden, but she’ll probably join the rest in a bit.”

Hermione nodded, her attention wandering from the conversation to the many intricacies of the Burrow. Many things looked exactly as they would have in any other British home—the white porcelain sink, the cozy armchairs, slightly worn, with knitted blankets draped over them, and a perfectly normal gas-lit stovetop. This was, however, no ordinary home. The lights above didn’t flicker once, as they were not normal lightbulbs, but orbs of soft, glowing light hovering by the ceiling. Family photographs winked and threw up peace signs at Hermione as she walked past. A clock with spoons with Weasley heads was positioned on the wall, and a broom handle tapped her gently on the shoulder, asking nonverbally to excuse itself as it swept dirt and dust from the floor.

“This is amazing, Ron,”

“It’s not, really, but thank you. Want something to eat? Mum made muffins yesterday and there are a few left… Here.”

Ron sent a blueberry muffin flying, and Hermione just barely caught it with her fingertips. Ron took her on a tour of the Burrow, showing off his favorite aspects but leaving others—like a dusty closet or a wall bearing red-headed baby pictures—up to her imagination. Finally, they arrived at his room. Ron had certainly left his mark of the place (in some areas of his wall or bedframe, quite literally). The walls bore posters of the Chuddly Cannons, Ron’s favorite team, and the bed had the look of one that was tidied very quickly and recently.

“…but you’ll have to sleep somewhere else,” Ron was saying, “because Harry will be in here and you’re a girl, so… you’ll be with Ginny. She’s upstairs.”

“Oh, alright.” Hermione hadn’t expected to share a room with Ron but was apprehensive to share several weeks in a room with a girl she had only spoken to a few times.

“And Harry should be here tomorrow. I’m writing a letter to him to ask, but, you know, it’s not like he’s going to say no.”

The duo returned to the first level of the Burrow, where Molly and Arthur Weasley had escorted their guests inside to the sitting room. Her parents, it seemed, were just as curious about the Weasleys and their home as they were about Muggles. They tried their best to meet the gaze of their hosts, but their eyes strayed to the many wizarding artifacts laying about. Every few moments or so, Mr. Granger would interrupt to ask about the moving photos or strange clothing or flying objects. The Weasleys would answer politely and patiently, often responding with questions of their own.

“Ah,” said Mrs. Granger, checking her watch, “we should be leaving soon, dear. We have work tomorrow, I’m afraid.”

Mrs. Weasley sighed.

“Ah, what a shame! I had half a mind to invite you to dinner, but if you must leave, then…”

“Perhaps another time! I doubt the Ministry would take much issue with a wizard and Muggle dinner party since your daughter is a witch.”

Hermione hugged her parents, wishing them a safe journey and promising to write home frequently. As they left, Mrs. Weasley stood, wiped her hands on her skirt, and set out to the kitchen. She waved her wand absently, sending loaves of bread from a breadbasket to a cutting board, where they cut themselves into slices.

“Ronald, dear, I need you to go into the garden and pick some tomatoes for sandwiches. You can pull out any weeds you see while you’re at it. Hermione is probably hungry.”

 _“Mum,”_ Ron moaned, “she just got here!”

Hermione listened curiously, a slight smile on her face. Was this how her friend behaved at home, too? Chookshanks wandered into the room, rubbing up against her legs as if asking to be picked up.

“She needs to eat! Both of you do. Hermione, you can set up your things in Ginny’s room; she’ll help you carry them up.”

Ron rolled his eyes in Hermione’s direction and mouthed “ _I’m sorry”_ before leaving out the back door. Mrs. Weasley yelled up at Ginny, who soon came down the steps. She wore a pleated black skirt and an oversized T-shirt bearing the Gringots logo, no doubt a hand-me-down from one of her brothers.

“Hiya,” she said, stretching slightly as she spoke.

Hermione smiled, but wondered to herself if the girl had just woken up. The time was nearly two P.M., so such a feat was unexpected.

Ginny picked up Hermione’s suitcase full of clothes and a large bag. She saw the girl’s eyebrows raise slightly, surprised at the weight of the bag Hermione knew to be full of textbooks covering all manner of subjects from transfiguration to wizarding political history, only a mere few of them needed for her coming school year. Despite the weight, Ginny could lift them with ease.

Hermione followed the youngest Weasley upstairs before turning into a cramped hallway.

“Well,” said Ginny awkwardly, “this is my room.”

She opened the door, revealing a modestly sized room with a twin-sized bed in the corner. A sleeping bag, generously adorned with the most evenly-fluffed pillows and a hand-knitted blanket, was already prepared beside it. Much like her older brother, Ginny wore her team pride loudly on her walls, but her favorite Quidditch players opted for the deep emeralds and yellows of the Hollyhead Harpies. There were also a select few photographs on the wall: one of her family on their trip to Egypt, one of Ginny smiling beside a blonde-haired girl Hermione had seen before in the hallways of Hogwarts, and several of Gryffindor Quidditch players taken out of newspapers. The room had the comfortable, contained feeling of a space where someone had spent a lot of time on their own.

Ginny placed Hermione’s luggage by the sleeping bag before sitting in her bed, her hands fidgeting in her lap.

“Thanks for letting me sleep in here, Ginny,” said Hermione.  
“Oh, it’s nothing, really. Good to have another girl in the house, if I’m being honest.”

“Ah! Yes, I’d assume it might get a bit… lonely…”

Ginny shrugged, leaning back slightly. She looked more comfortable here, with Hermione in her room, then she had at all during the few years of school they had shared.

“You can put your clothes in the bottom drawer, if you want,” she pointed to a dusty set of drawers, “I cleaned some space out for you.”

Hermione did as she recommended, tiding and organizing her things as she went along. She tucked her wand into her sweater pocket—now that she was in a wizarding home, it just felt right to have it on her—and sat down on the sleeping bag, eyeing one of her textbooks longingly. She might have thought it rude to read in front of her host, but Ginny was already focused on something else; with her long, shining hair draping over the end of the bed and her bare feet propped against the wall, Ginny was spinning her wand around in her fingers, an idle stream of mist coming from its end. Hermione scoffed quietly, holding back a lecture on underage wizardry laws being there for a reason, even if they weren’t strictly enforced. Instead, she opened her book.

\-----

Mealtime at the Burrow was, though hectic and crowded, a perfectly enjoyable affair. Here, the entire Weasley family, Hermione cramped in their midst, sat around three miss-matching tables. Introducing herself to Ron’s eldest brothers, Bill and Charlie, she sat herself down at one end of the table next to her friend. Ron handed her a buttered dinner roll to eat while the rest of the food—roast beef with green beans and roasted potatoes—was passed down the table.

“It’s weird,” Ron said, “having them all back again. I don’t think that’s happened since I was _eight_. Ginny was _just a widdle baby._ ”

He snickered at his little sister, who glared.

“It is really lovely to meet your brothers, Ron.”

He rolled his eyes.

“At least these two are better than Perce. I can’t imagine having to introduce him to you…”

“The _shame,_ ” Fred chimed in. Percy, conversing (arguing, more likely) with his mother, didn’t hear.

Ron began discussing his excitement for the Quidditch World Cup, which caught the attention of most of the children at the table. He and Ginny got into an argument about Ireland’s defensive strategies. Hermione hadn’t seen Ginny talk this much in one sitting before.

“I’m _telling_ you, Ron, Ireland covers the goals, not the field as a whole. They’re impenetrable, yeah, but they don’t have the wide coverage you’d want with Bulgaria’s seeker.”

Hermione was out of her depth, simply nodding and agreeing with everyone. Quidditch would never be her strong suit. Watching a game at Hogwarts, supporting her friend and sneaking books to read discretely during less eventful parts of a match, sure, but talking about strategies and defense became muddled and overwhelming in her head.

Ginny turned to look at her as Ron was rattling off insults at Bulgaria’s least successful chaser’s statistics, and saw her anxiously pick at her nail.

“Shut up, Ron, you’re boring your friend,” she snapped. “Hermione, what do you think about the Cup? Have you seen a professional game before?”

Ron stopped talking, picking up on the underlying message of Ginny’s words. He scratched his head embarrassedly.

“Well,” she cleared her throat, “we don’t have Quidditch in the Muggle world. Mostly just soccer and rugby. I did read in the Prophet that they’re predicting the Cup to have the highest viewer turnout of any in the league’s history, however, and I’m very interested to see how the Ministry will control that influx of wizards.”

Ron nodded, mouth full, and pointed to his dad.

“He was talking a’out tha’ earlier. They’ve go’ oblivia’ors.”

“Ah, I see…”

Dinner drew to a close after each member of the table (excluding Percy, who had left early) had eaten two hearty servings and several dinner rolls. Fred and George were sent to the kitchen to clean up by their mother. Tired from the meal, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Ginny, Charlie, and Bill all retired to their separate corners of the Burrow, wishing the others a good night. Ron and Hermione sat by the fire, chatting comfortably for just a few more minutes.

Ron acted slightly different when Harry wasn’t around. Their third friend had always acted as something of a buffer between the two over the years, on several occasions needing to repair their friendship entirely, but Hermione couldn’t help but think that he behaved even stranger now than he had before. Sitting on the floor, Ron stretched unconcernedly and propped his arm on the couch behind him, the fire illuminating his skin. He was going on about his thoughts on the Cup and boasting about his own Quidditch skills. Hermione wasn’t really listening, distracted by Crookshanks rubbing his head on her knee.

“…and, well, if I had any nerve, I’d get onto Gryffindor’s team myself. I play with Fred and George all the time, and they can’t ever get a goal in past me, so… well… I’m not too bad, am I?”

“Mmhmm…”

Hermione made a point to change the subject to school, causing Ron’s face to fall slightly. He indulged her as she told him about her schedule and anxieties. He turned to look at her as she spoke, drawing his legs in so he could scoot an inch closer, casually interjecting with questions or comments. Nervously, Hermione stood.

“Well. I’d better head to bed now…”

Ron looked disappointed, saying, “yeah, me too. ‘Night!”

Hermione hurried off, shaking her head. Was it the nature of their friendship that they would never really have something to talk about? She loved Ron, of course, as he was one of her best friends, but she knew that he and Harry could talk for hours while she sat, doing their homework in silence.

She sighed and turned the corner to Ginny’s room. Expecting to see her asleep in her bed, Hermione gasped as she entered.

The room was decorated with small orbs of glowing light, and Ginny stood on a chair in the corner, positioning an orb delicately with her fingers. The orbs emitted a cool, green-tinted light that reflected upon the fuzzy pink rug on the floor, reminding Hermione of sunlight on snow. As she saw Hermione, Ginny stepped down from the chair and smiled warmly.

“Ta da!”

Hermione was silent.

“I er—I decorated the place a bit with some old, enchanted tennis balls. Something I figured out last year in Charms. It gets dark in here at night and, well, you’re not used to it yet, so…”

“ _Wow,_ Ginny, this is beautiful!”

Ginny grinned and flopped onto her bed, landing in a sitting position.

“This is fun. It’s like a sleepover or something!”

Hermione chuckled. She had only had one sleepover in her days, and it hadn’t ended too well. A popular girl in her primary school had to invite all the other girls in the grade by her well-intentioned mother. Hermione hadn’t really fit in anywhere and, well, none of them saw her as a _“real”_ girl, anyway. She ended up leaving after dinner was served. Mrs. Granger had, feeling guilty for leaving her daughter to be subject to the cruelty of teenagers, treated her to a late-night tea party and movie night.

“So… want to play Enchantment? Or maybe Bog Witch? Or maybe—”

“I haven’t heard of any of those.”

“I guess muggles don’t do those kinds of games, huh? Do you have… do you have Cast Master?”

Hermione gestured to her pajamas and Ginny nodded, turning to the wall and holding her hands over her eyes. As Ginny listed wizarding sleepover games, Hermione took off her sweater, padded bra, and shorts and changed into an old T-shirt from a craft fair she had entered in when she was ten and old pajama bottoms.

“I don’t know if I’m really up for a game tonight, Ginny,” Hermione yawned, “but there will be plenty of time for that later on, perhaps.”

Ginny nodded understandingly.

“Goodnight, Hermione.”

“Goodnight, Ginny.”

Ginny snapped her fingers and, in an instant, the room was enveloped in the deep, black night.

**Author's Note:**

> Be gay do crime
> 
> Support trans women


End file.
